America's Past Time
by SplishySplash
Summary: Booth helps Brennan unwind after a tough week, involving America's favorite past time, based slightly on an Xfiles episode.


**Title: America's Past Time. **

**Rating: G**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything is owned by FOX broadcasting company. I am inspired to write this story by X-files, episode called Unnatural. And I have no knowledge in baseball, and I rather dislike the sport, but I like this story. I hope you all enjoy. . .Any mistakes let me know.**

Brennan walked into her apartment sometime after eight. The work load had increased tremendously with the incoming cases, the spring run-off uncovering more and more bodies from all different time periods.

The doctor sighed, for the first time since the summer solstice began; the air conditioning was working, and working well.

She wandered farther into the dark apartment, and the light from her answering machine flashed brightly, indicating that a message waited patiently for her. She pushed the green button and with a thud, she sat on the bar stool.

". . . Sweetie, I was just wondering when. . ."Angela's voice came first.

She immediately pressed the delete button. "_Message erased. Message two sent today at eight p.m. _Bones check the front pouch on your bag." Came Booth's voice before hanging up.

Brennan moaned and went back to her door, where she dropped her bag onto the floor. She complied with his request, and sure enough a folded piece of paper sat in the usually untouched pocket. She unfolded it and took notice of Booth's neat cursive on one side.

_Red Rock Park; 9 p.m. _

He didn't sign it, and he didn't have to. She grabbed her bag and again walked out of the dark apartment, not giving herself time to relax or think about what she was about to get into.

Not that he would put her in any sort of danger, intentionally. She stopped at a red light and looked in the mirror, despite the sweltering heat and high humidity, her hair and make up were still in place. Brennan gave herself the once over, not quite remembering what she was wearing and she sighed, she was wearing her favorite brown top, along with a matching skirt and a necklace that Angela had given her for her previous birthday.

A car honked the horn behind her, bringing her out of her reverie, almost startling her. She placed her foot on the gas and kept in the direction of the park The park, she had been only a couple of times for a case, but the last time was when Epps was on the loose and they had found Parker there.

Booth hadn't said what she was meeting him at the park for, assuming it was a body found in the creek or something to the effect. Silently glad that she kept a spare jumpsuit in the trunk, along with her field kit and any other things that would be needed for a recovery.

But then again, he didn't give a reason. Just a simple note.

A small smile graced her lips as she pulled into the park parking lot. She turned off the engine and her cell phone began to vibrate. She pulled it out of her pocket, revealing a text message had been sent to her. Brennan ignored it at first, as she stepped out of the car to get into her trunk.

The phone vibrated again, trying to gain her attention and she looked at the message.

_Leave your things, take a right after the merry-go-round and head towards the lights._ The screen read. Brennan sighed, closed the trunk of her car and turned on her heels.

The park was fairly empty for being nine-thirty on a Thursday, the doctor noted as she began to wander through the park. Music from the carousel played loudly from somewhere in the park and a couple of excited screams also from the small wooded roller coaster that could be seen from the tree line.

The setting sun left little light for the park, as street lamps began light up the path the doctor walked along, the majority of the light coming from a stadium after the merry-go-round.

The sound of a distinct crack caught the doctor's attention to the open gate. Her partner stood in the middle with a wooden bat in hand swinging at each white ball pitched in his direction, each swing was met with a crack, sending the ball in the opposite direction.

She watched slightly amused, before she leaned against the gate opening. "I've always pictured you as a baseball player." Brennan said loudly, startling him enough to miss the ball pitched at him.

"Jesus Bones. Don't sneak up on my like that." He said, setting the top of the bat in the dirt and turning to face her.

She laughed softly. "Sorry, I thought you would have heard me, being an ex-sniper and an agent." She teased, smiling playfully. For the first time in awhile she was relaxed.

"Yeah, you would think." He said, his lips holding a slight smile. "But I was in 'the zone,' a place where I like to pretend that I'm far away."

"I don't understand." She said, her delicate features showing confusion.

He smiled showing that he understood her confusion. "It means that it's relaxing to me. I don't have to think about anything when I'm out there."

"Oh." Brennan responded with a smile. "Is there a reason you called me here? I'm assuming that you didn't get another case because you didn't come find me. . ."

"I thought you would like to give it a try." His smile turning to his 'charm' smile.

"Swinging a stick at a ball?" she asked, trying to find anthropological similarities to the sport.

"No, Bones." He said shaking his head. "This is baseball, you know America's favorite past time?"

"I've watched it played when I was in graduate school. It was for an assignment, an analysis of how the skeletal system moves through each of the moves." She said, shrugging her shoulders. "I have drawn the conclusion that it doesn't take much talent to play baseball. It's all about dumb luck, I mean you have a fifty-fifty chance that you will hit the ball and a twenty-five percent challenge that you make it to a base, give or take on the numbers."

"First of all, you are overanalyzing things and you don't believe in luck, Bones." He started, his finger pointing at her accusingly. "Second of all, it's not luck. And it legitimately takes talent to know when to hit the ball." He was trying to defend the sport.

"Whatever you say Booth." She said, softening her look.

"You've never played baseball, have you?" He asked, raising a brow. His accusing finger joined the rest at his hip.

"Well, no." Came her answer, her voice grew quiet. "I was never much into athletics."

"Then here." He handed her the wooden bat. "You give it a shot." Confidently, the doctor grabbed the rounded wood and stood in the path of the machine, awkwardly gripping the bat and nodding to the teenager at the machine. He fed a ball into it and it came in her direction, in response Brennan swung the bat, missing white ball miserably.

Booth laughed, his charm smile showed what he was thinking '_I told you so_,' though he didn't say it out loud, earning him a glare. "Don't you dare say it." She snapped, setting the tip of the bat on the ground again. "I've never done this before."

"Then let me show you." He said standing right behind her with her back to his chest, bringing his hands around her small frame grasping the bat with his large, rough hands gripping the bat, her smaller, more delicate ones in the middle. He slightly tapped her feed so that they were parallel to each other, perpendicular to the machine.

"Is there a theory to all this?" She asked, curiously.

"Of course there is." Said Booth, softly in her ear. "I'm just not going to explain the scientific voodoo of it all."

"Only because you don't know what it is." She said, the smile returning to her lips, her eyes focusing on the machine.

"Was that a joke?" Asked Booth, pretending to be shocked, her body was still wrapped in his.

"Maybe it was." She retorted, playfully. "Are you going to show me this theory, at least?"

"As you wish, Bones." Booth said, his grip becoming tighter on the bat. "You want to keep your elbows high, feet parallel." He repositioned her body, raising his own arms and bringing her arms up with them.

"That's it?" She asked, growing inpatient.

"Of course not, Bones. You need to be patient, wait for the ball to come to you. First you want to turn your hips, then allow your arms follow." He said, his right hand dropping from the bat onto her hip, applying pressure with it and his own pelvis. "Hips, then arms."

"Pelvis, then appendages." She mumbled to herself.

"Hips, then arms." He repeated in a whisper, swinging the bat a couple of times. "Are you ready?" She said nothing, only nodded. "Alright Carl, lets give this a shot." The teen at the machine fed some of the balls and the first one was sent in the direction of the pair.

With Booth's direction, she swung the bat which came into contact with the ball sending it back to the foul line and Booth chuckled softly watching the ball roll over the freshly mowed grass. "Oh, that was a good. Alright, what you may find is when you concentrate on hitting that little white ball, all the worries of the world just fade away. Everyday concerns just melts away." He whispered into her ear.

She didn't know if it was from the excitement of his body being pressed against her back, or if it was that she actually hit the ball, causing her to giggle softly, a very 'non-Brennan' like response. Carl sent another ball at them, and again she hit it, farther then first one.

His smile grew sly, only because she couldn't see it. "All of the bodies waiting in Limbo." He whispered, the distinct crack was beginning to return, though not as loud as Booths. "Ruining your brand new dress when we recovered that last victim." She hit the ball again, sending it into left field, that hit a nerve.

She said nothing, her face turned into a scowl. "You throwing away the safety of your lab to investigate murders, with your handsome, FBI agent best friend slash partner." He said, gaining a small smile from the forensic anthropologist.

She swung again, the giggle was from him being so close., the ball went stray and hit the side fence. "Come on Bones, tell me that you can't feel your worries just drain away when you swing." He whispered close to her ear.

"Shut up, Booth. I'm playing baseball." Was all she responded, again swinging at a ball pitched into their direction. Booth chuckled louder as they continued their game.

-----------------------------------------------

"Tell me again why we are at a park at ten o'clock on a Thursday night?" Asked Jack Hodgins, whose hand was resting innocently around his girlfriends waist.

"Because I wanted to go see the starving artists, you didn't have to come." Answered Angela, as they walked through the small amusement park, the crowd was slowly becoming thinner as the rides one-by-one they were being shut down.

"You might be an artist, Babe, but your not a starving one." He said, with a smile.

"Are you calling me fat?" She asked with a raised brown.

"No, I'm merely stating that you are with the richest man in the D.C. area and that I will give you anything you could possibly want." Answered Hodgins, trying to sound astounded that she would think that _he_ would call her fat. "And you are anything but fat."

"Why, I'm flattered Jack." She said, kissing him on the cheek. The lights from the stadium caught her attention. "I thought little league was over by eight."

"You come to this park way too much." Commented Hodgins as she pulled his hand in the direction of the field.

"You've never watched little league, have you? It's the funniest thing you'll ever see." She turned to face him, her dark eyes dancing with excitement. "The entire team of little boys running after the ball, running in the wrong direction. . ." She was interrupted by the etymologist.

"I don't think those two are in little league." He said, pointing at their friends-the FBI agent and the forensic anthropologist. "I know he's older than she is, but she is still to old for it."

The artists eyes followed the direction of his finger to the home plate of the baseball diamond. Booth still had his arms tightly around Brennan as they both swung at ball, sending it deep into center field. Booth cheered loudly.

"Oh god." Said Angela, her voice showing excitement. Her brown eyes glued to the pair, making the man next to her chuckle. She gave a squeal.

"Sh! Angela, they'll hear us." He said, pulling her next to a large bush, clearly hiding them from the view of the partners.

"They've been hiding something from us." Said Angela, watching it almost addicted.

"I don't think so, baseball isn't a date thing." responded Jack, she again turned to look at him as if he had grown an extra head. "I mean, it's a stress relaxer. After their last case, she deserves it."

"No what she needs is a good lay. Both of them do, what a strange coincidence." She said sarcastically, her eyes turning back to the pair.

Hodgins just shook his had as a ball came flying in their direction, startling both of them. "What the hell?" He asked looking in the direction of the ball that almost took his head off.

Both sets of eyes went from the ball to their friends it the baseball diamond. The bat sat on the ground and both voices could be heard cheering. Booth still had Brennan in his arms, only this time she was facing him, they were jumping up and down clearly excited about their 'home run.'

The artist and the etymologist's eyes grew wide when the unexpected happened. Booth pressed his lips firmly to Brennan's as they fell onto the dirt, neither bothered by the matter because they had more important matters at hand. Angela looked back to her boyfriend. "Me and her have so much to talk about tomorrow." she whispered, picking up the ball that almost hit them.

"Your taking the ball with you?" He asked, taking her empty hand, leading her back to his car.

"Yeah, it's their home run ball. I'll mean something, eventually." She said, a mysterious gleam in her eye. With one last book behind, she saw the pair sitting in the grass obviously talking about what had just happened. "Because when she denies it tomorrow, I have proof."


End file.
